Chapter 1

I've been secretly dating the famous soccer star Preston Fisher for five years.

In that time, he's won three straight Premier League titles.

Every time he wins, the club lets him draw a lucky fan to receive his match-worn jersey and a kiss.

I pray every time that he'll draw me.

But every single time, his “luck” somehow lands on Sabrina Hall, the team operations manager.

This year, the club has changed the rules.

No more random draw. He gets to invite whoever he wants.

So I finally ask.

"I've never gotten one of your jerseys," I say. "This year… will you pick me?"

"Our wedding's coming up. I want to stand next to you on that field."

Preston smiles and says ok.

Before kickoff, I sneak down to the players' tunnel to cheer him on.

That's when I hear one of his teammates, voice low.

"Pres, man, you seriously gonna throw the game? You rigged the earlier draws to make sure Sabrina got picked, fine. But now that you get to choose who to invite, you’d rather lose the match than invite Lena?"

Preston's voice is casual.

"This way Sabrina keeps her 'lucky fan' title, and I keep Lena quiet. Best of both worlds. Besides, Lena can't even tell what offside is. She doesn't deserve my number nine."

"Aren't you scared she'll walk out on you?"

He scoffs.

"She threw herself at me to marry me. Wedding's around the corner. She's not going anywhere. And if she did, who'd want her? Damaged goods."

Best of both worlds.

Damaged goods.

The words are blades, straight into my chest.

I clamp a hand over my mouth and let the tears fall.

Fine, then.

I don't want your jersey anymore.

...

The stadium erupts.

The commentator's screaming, "Champions again! King Fisher still reigns!"

I see it clearly.

Preston ghosts through the whole game, misses an open net on purpose.

But he still wins.

The jumbotron zooms in.

He walks straight to the VIP box and personally leads Sabrina down onto the field.

The second he takes her hand, his eyes go soft.

Two girls next to me squeal.

"Oh my God, they're so cute! Are they dating?!"

"Look at the way he's looking at her. That would melt anyone."

My eyes start to burn.

Five years together. Outside of a few close friends, nobody even knows we exist.

Sabrina's been his team operations manager for three years. And for three years, he's played favorites with her right in front of everyone.

She says she doesn't want to do rehab alone — he leaves me behind and drives to the training center to be with her.

She says she wants to collect his number nine — so I never get one.

When I ask, he brushes me off.

"Jerseys are sponsor property. They get auctioned for charity. Can't just hand them out."

Down on the field, the announcer's voice drops low and teasing. "And now — Preston Fisher will invite his lucky fan, for the jersey and the kiss!"

The whole stadium holds its breath.

Preston lazily lifts his eyes, scans the crowd, and lands on me.

My fingers curl tight. A last, trembling flicker of hope.

Then his gaze drifts right past me. He turns to Sabrina and gestures.

"My lucky fan — come on up."

Sabrina looks stunned, her eyes filling with tears as she takes his hand.

"The honor's mine."

My phone buzzes.

Let Sabrina have this one. After the wedding, when we're public, you can take your pick — I'll give you a whole closet of jerseys.

Wait again.

Wait for practice to end. Wait for the trophy. Wait for the wedding.

I've waited five years.

Staring at the screen, my throat closes up like it's stuffed with cotton.

The crowd howls. Preston peels off his number nine in front of everyone, drapes it over Sabrina's shoulders, and leans in to kiss her temple.

Fireworks go up. He doesn't hesitate — he pulls her straight to the center circle.

The stadium goes dead quiet for one beat.

A beat of silence — then the whole place erupts.

The center circle here is famous as the confession spot.

The legend says: accept love here, and you'll end up together.

Every broadcast camera swings in. Reporters flood the field.

"Preston, did you know that's the confession circle?!"

"Sabrina, are you two dating?!"

"Come on, everyone wants to know!"

Under the flashing lights, Sabrina lowers her head shyly, as if she's just admitted they're together.

My breath catches. I stare at Preston.

He laughs, easy, careless. Doesn't deny a thing.

The place goes wild. Cheers, screams, phones in the air.

Guys!! The couple I've shipped for three years is REAL!

I drop my eyes. The last of my love drifts off with the sound of his laugh.

I open my phone. Pull up the wedding venue I waited a whole year to book.

Canceling requires a waitlist. Confirm cancellation?

I tap Confirm.

Look up at them one last time. And walk out.